


Hey You (Feel like falling in Love?)

by Dreaming0fPhlint



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Angst, Clint Has Issues, Daddy Kink, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Phil is a babe, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-07-08
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3955861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming0fPhlint/pseuds/Dreaming0fPhlint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Feel like falling in love?"<br/>"Yes." </p><p>Set in three parts, Clint Barton falls in love with a man called Phil Coulson when he was just 23 years old and the road to happiness was never supposed to be easy, but it wasn't supposed to include free falling either.</p><p>(Already posted on Wattpad under my user Dreaming0fLarry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1.1 Mysterious Stranger

CHAPTER ONE - MYSTERIOUS STRANGER 

It wasn’t the early morning sunlight that awoke Clint up from his comfortable slumber, no; instead it was the sound of raised voices and slamming of doors. Sleepily Clint ignored the shouting and stretched his arms above his head – narrowly avoiding hitting the headboard. Arching his back, Clint dug his head into his shoulder and yawned, shivering in delight at the feeling of his sex-sore muscles and bones as he stretched languidly.

The sound of the front door slamming knocked any remnants of sleep out of his subconscious and Clint allowed himself to flop and groan once before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Blinking blearily Clint looked around the room that he was currently occupying and groaned to himself again, disturbing the dust motes that had settled on the duvet. The familiar red silk duvet pooled around his hipbones as he looked around the room in vain his clothes that had been thrown there last night.  
With no such luck Clint gritted his teeth before picking up the duvet and wrapping it around his naked body, padding across the chilly floor to where the door was. Cautiously, Clint opened the door and stuck his head out; looking for the man that he’d fallen into bed with. “Tony?” he called.

The sound of clacking heels sounded through the hallway and a beautiful red-headed woman stood in front of him, handing him a hanger that held his shirt and jeans. “I have your clothes here; they have been dry-cleaned and pressed. And there is a car waiting outside that will take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Ms. Potts,” Clint nodded at Tony’s personal assistant and ignored the way that her green-blue eyes studied him, looking him up and down, taking in the way that his body was swaddled up in the duvet. She smiled and him before reaching out her hand and placing it on top of his, making his freeze as he turned around to leave.  
“Clint,” he turned around slowly and Pepper smiled at him slowly. “Can I offer you some breakfast Mr Barton? It’s the least that I can do for Tony’s troubles.”

Clint tried for a smile, but it came out more of a grimace and Pepper had the decency to look embarrassed before shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it Ms. Potts, Tony hasn’t caused any troubles.” He was the trouble; it was his own damn fault that he was here again, waking up alone in that cold bed. Turning around he smiled at Pepper once more through his pain and left to go change in the bedroom that he’d woken up in.

“Well, if you’re sure,” Pepper walked away down the corridor and as Clint looked back once he saw her looking over her shoulder at him sadly. “I’m so sorry Clint.”  
‘You have nothing to be sorry for’ Clint grumbled as he kicked the bedroom door shut and slammed it behind himself angrily. Leaning against the closed door, he sank to the floor, the anger turning to pain as he dropped his head into the palms of his hands, pushing them into his eye sockets to stop himself from crying. He breathed in earnestly, his mind running away with him and he spent the next few minutes calming his heart before throwing his head back, letting it hit the door that was behind him.

Tears arose behind his eyelids as he desperately tried to keep them at bay; squeezing his eyes shut not allowing Tony or Pepper the satisfaction of making him cry. His hands were clenched into fists either side of his body as he attempted to hold himself together. His too-long, ragged nails pierced into the soft skin on the palms and left bloody, crescent shaped marks that dripped blood down his fingers and through the gaps in-between onto the floor. 

****

As Clint stepped out onto the sidewalk outside of STARK building he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the sky. The morning sunlight was hidden by dark gray storm clouds that littered the autumn sky rumbling ominously. The first few droplets of rain started to fall. “Great.” He muttered and pulled his collar up in a vain attempt to keep himself dry. His apartment was still a few blocks away and as he walked past the last intersection before the warm, dryness of his home an annoying beeping sounded from his jeans pocket.

Clint glanced down at the screen to see a text from Tasha blinking back at him. Clint smiled a little but stuffed it back in his pocket; it could wait until he was out of the rain.

Tasha. Clint mused as he stepped out onto the street. What would she say to how silly he had been? She would probably laugh her head off, and then be seriously disappointed in him. “Barton, love doesn’t exist.” Is what she would say whilst she stroked his hair and he cried, a cynical expression on her face, all because Tasha didn’t believe in love; seen too much, suffered too much pain from the hands of people that were supposed to love her. But him, he still had hope in the simple notion. 

Suddenly Clint heard a horn blare not ten feet away from him and he looked up from where he’d been daydreaming to see a huge truck barrelling towards him. The world stopped for a few seconds and all he could hear was his own blood roaring in his ears, felt the way that his heart skipped a beat and the way that his hands and legs shook.

Clint snapped back to reality, the sound of the trucks screeching tyres was the only thing he could concentrate on as he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable impact. Before he could react any further a pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back roughly towards the curb. The momentum of the pull propelled him off his feet and Clint felt his back hit the broad body behind him. As he slammed into the body, Clint felt the stranger lose his balance too and soon they were both tumbling onto the sidewalk.

Clint’s heart hammered in his chest as pure adrenalin coursed through him. “Oh my god,” he muttered to himself, dazed. Everything had happened so fast; a blur of colours and shapes as he tried to remember what happened. He looked behind him slightly and flushed, embarrassment mixing with the adrenalin. The man that had just pulled him off the road was still sat on the curb, Clint’s butt was in the man’s lap and the man’s hands were still gripping his shoulders tightly.  
“I’m so sorry,” Clint cried, trying to right him-self. “You could have gotten hurt!”

The man grinned at him; his blue eyes rather dazed looking. “Don’t apologise, you were the one that would have been hurt, that truck would have flattened you!”  
Clint shuddered but nodded in agreement and then started with a started with a jolt as he realised that he hadn’t thanked the mysterious stranger. “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

It was in that exact moment that Clint realised the stranger hadn’t let go of him. His back was still leaning against the man’s shoulder, the man’s chest solid and warm against him. Looking back into the strangers blue eyes Clint was startled to see that the man was utterly gorgeous.

Clint blanched, “Sorry,” he said again and pulled back, struggling to his feet. The stranger stood and taking Clint’s flailing hands in his own, bigger one and tugged him to his feet in one swift movement. The tug was stronger than expected and a moment later Clint found himself chest to chest with the stranger, their noses bumping together. “Sorry.” Clint apologised again and mentally kicked himself as he realised that he kept apologising.

The man waved away Clint’s apology with a casual shake of the head and started to brush down his trousers. They were an expensive wool material, and under the man’s black overcoat Clint could make out a suit jacket and tie. He couldn’t bare thinking about how much the outfit and he dug into his pocket for his last few notes and held them out to the man. “Here, this is for your dry-cleaning.” He said with a forced smile and the man raised an eyebrow before shaking his head.

“No thank you, don’t worry. It’s not every day you get to save handsome young men from getting squashed by trucks, I think one of my suits may suffer in honour.” The man said, his blue eyes sparkling infectiously, a grin sliding over his face.

“You really did save me,” Clint agreed, looking up at the man and noticed that his hair and shoulders were getting wet. “You’re getting wet.” Clint frowned and the man nodded gracefully.

“We’re both getting wet.” He agree and then he placed his hand on the small of Clint’s back, pulling him closer as he picked his yellow umbrella up from the floor and opened it above their heads. “Now, do you think you’re alright? Does anything hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Clint told him with an easy smile, “Just embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” the man said smiling down at him under the umbrella. The man was standing way too close to Clint, and he could practically feel the body heat radiating off the man. “The rain makes us all do stupid things.”

Something about the tone made Clint’s stomach lurch in a pleasant sort of way. Was the man flirting with him? It had been a long time since a sober person had flirted with him.

“I’m very grateful,” Clint pressed and then nervously hedged a suggestion forward. “I’d like to pay you back, very much.”

“Well, if you insist,” the man said slowly, taking a tony step closer to Clint so that their chests pressed closer together. “Why don’t you buy me a drink sometime?” Clint could feel that mans heartbeat accelerate nervously and he smiled up at the man reassuringly.

“Uh,” Clint said surprised. What did the man like him want with a boy like him? He was probably just being polite, thinking that if he agreed to one of his requests then he’d get away quicker.

“If you don’t object,” the man continued when Clint didn’t say anything. “I know I’d like it very much.” He felt himself blush; maybe the man did want to spend more time with him? “What do you say?”

“That sounds great,” Clint forced him-self to meet the strangers gaze even though his stomach was flopping, full of butterflies.

“Awesome!” the man enthused. “I mean do you have a number or something that I can call you on?” he blustered on, “and your name for that matter?”

A laugh threatened to bubble from Clint, for even the smoothest and high earning people were only human. “My names Clint.” he smiled as the man pulled out a phone and rattled off his cell number.

“My names Phil, it’s very nice to meet you Clint.” Phil said with a smile and dialled the number that Clint had just told him. His pocket buzzed, “There,” Phil said, slipping his phone back into his own pocket. “Now you have my number and I’ll expect a call from you soon about ‘paying me back’?” Phil winked at him and he felt himself blush, not used to attention from gorgeous older strangers, the butterflies in his stomach multiplying.

“Now,” Phil said. “Where are you heading? I think I’d better walk you there, make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Clint heard himself chuckle; an unfamiliar sound, one that hadn’t passed his lips in a long time and pointed across the road where his building was.  
Phil put his hand on the small of Clint’s back again and led him back towards the road and after making a big show of looking each way, Phil gently manoeuvred him across the road and in front of his building.

“Here you go,” Phil said, opening the door for Clint. Clint smiled at him and in the spur of the moment he leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to Phil’s warm cheek.

“Thank you Phil, I really, really appreciate it,” he said looking up into those blue eyes and pulled away getting his apartment keys out his pocket.

Phil smiled in return, a faint blush blooming on the cheek that Clint had just kissed. “It was my pleasure.” Then he leaned against the door as Clint walked further into the foyer and turned around to face him. “I hope to hear from you soon.” And with one last smile Phil stepped away from the doorway.

Clint sighed, giddy as the adrenalin drained from his body. As he pressed the button for the lift, he glanced one last time out the closing door into the rain. There, silhouetted against the buildings on the other side of the road, standing on the curb under his yellow umbrella, Phil stood watching him leave.

Leave me some comments? x


	2. Part 1.2 - Art

Chapter Two:

“Clint where the hell have you been?” Was the first thing that he heard when he pushed open the door to his apartment. There, snuggled in the warmth and dry lay Natasha, his best friend and room-mate. She looked mad, her eyes flashing as she got to her feet and slipped his dripping shirt off his body. “I was so worried about you идиот.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Clint replied soothingly as she wrapped her arms around his cold, shivering body. “I just go held up coming back from Tony’s place this morning in the rain.” 

“Tony?” Tasha said despairingly with a shake of her head. “Again? Really Clint? Haven’t you learnt yet that that man is no good for you?”

“Yes,” he replied with a nod of his head. “Yes, I know now that that man is no good for me.” He smiled wanly at Tasha before starting to walk towards his closed bedroom door.

“Are you okay?” Tasha asked slowly, her perfect forehead crinkling with lines as she watched him walk away. 

Clint placed his hand on the doorknob and twisted it once before looking back. “Yeah, I actually am.” He told her honestly and his mind wandered back to Phil; the mysterious, gorgeous stranger that has saved his life. 

Maybe everything was going to be okay now. 

****

Predictably Steve was the first person that Clint told about Phil, the skinny blonde man enthusiastic about the situation, a pleasant change to Tasha’s rather cynical view when it came to strangers and love.

“What did he look like?” Steve enthused, his hands flying out in front of him as he gestured wildly.

Clint rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders once. “He was pretty cute I guess.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow and him and Clint groaned before relenting. “He was tall, taller than me and older too. He had fine, light brown hair that was neatly combed to the side, tanned with a strong jaw and broad shoulders. He had light blue eyes, kind eyes that sparkled when he smiled at me. He is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever lied eyes upon.” He told Steve honestly. 

“Not bad,” Steve nodded in approval. “What was he wearing?” 

“Suit and tie,” Clint replied, squinting as he wracked his brain trying to remember the small details. “And a black overcoat I think.” 

“Wow, handsome and rich,” Steve breathed and looked up at Clint. “Different from what we’re used to bro, but a good different. I reckon this Phil will be good for you Clint.” 

Clint smiled at him and followed Steve’s gaze as it wandered from his own face and there, laughing with his head thrown back stood Bucky Barnes, Steve’s childhood boyfriend. Newly healed from his car accident Bucky’s bionic arm hung loosely at his side, noticing them staring at him Bucky smiled and lifted said arm and crooked the metal fingers at Steve a ‘come hither’ look crossing his face. 

Steve blushed and looked at Clint apologetically. “Go get your man Rogers, don’t worry about me,” he waved Steve away with a flap of his hands. “Go be disgustingly cute.” 

Steve flipped him the finger before jogging over to where his boyfriend stood. Clint smiled as he watched his Steve run away and then chuckled as Bucky crowded the smaller man up against a tree and pressed a dirty kiss to Steve’s lips. 

****

Clint settled down on his bench, his lunch sandwich long forgotten next to him as he pulled his sketchbook onto his lap. Charcoal crumbled under his fingers as he gripped it, leaving black strokes on the soft paper. Rough, animalistic lines slowly gifted the paper with a scene, two figures forming on the paper, their crudely drawn faces smudged. The only colour on the whole drawing was the bright yellow umbrella; the pinpoint of the entire drawing, a ray of sunshine compared to the grimy black and white of the rest of the drawing.

“Wow,” Clint started as a voice above him exclaimed. “You’re an amazing artist Clint, that’s us from yesterday right?” 

Clint nodded as Phil came around the front of the bench and shifted Clint’s lunch so that it was between the two of them as he sat down. Extending his hand out politely Phil silently asked for the sketchbook and Clint hadn’t it to him after a moment of hesitation. 

His sketchbook was his haven, a place where he could draw to his heart’s desire whenever he wanted too. That book full of paint, pencil, charcoal showed him at his best and worst, it held his darkest secrets and his happiest memories. He had poured his life and soul into each of those drawings, the good and the bad. 

The first few pictures that Phil looked over held the horrors of his childhood; the dried tears still marring the soft paper. Dark colours, a small boy crouched in the corner as a giant of a man raised his hand threateningly. The drawings were crude, the pencil pushed o hard into the paper, breaking through it in some places but the red paint splattering the pages caught Phil’s eye as he traced it the tip of his index finger. 

Gold and yellows were used to paint a soulful lion, its liquid brown eyes staring into your soul from the page. There were smiles from the palm-reading lady and his mentor, colourful crowds that came to watch his circus act also. A few even of his brother Barney began to emerge in these pages but as usual everything turned dark; pages ripped and smudged with tears and blood because everything good must come to an end. 

The last few pages are full of newer drawings, millions and millions of portraits depicting Tasha, the soft pencil giving her lithe and beautiful body an ethereal glow. They showed her laughing – lines crinkling at the edges of her eyes, her asleep, her getting in and out of the body. 

“Who is this?” Phil asked slowly, the tip of his finger tracing softly over a picture of Tasha dancing in their living room, her fiery red hair the only colour. 

Clint smiled at the memory, “She’s my best friend, like my sister but better, closer.” He explained, his voice cracking a little. “She’s the only one that’s been there for me since the beginning.”

“She must be very special to you” Phil smiled, passing the sketchbook back.

Clint nodded. “She is,” ‘everything’ passed through them silently but Phil nodded because he understood, because he heard it too. 

“Anyway, hi,” Phil smiled at him and Clint felt himself smiling back childishly before exchanging his own hello. 

“I know we said that you’d call me but I couldn’t stop thinking about you all morning.” Phil said, his fingers playing with the sleeve of another suit. Clint felt his face heat up with pleasure and the butterflies from yesterday resurfaced.

“Really?” Clint arched his eyebrows, puzzled at the thought of somebody other than Tasha thinking about him, especially in the way that Phil was referring too. 

“Really.” Phil confirmed with him and blushed red. “A handsome young man like you filling my thoughts all day? It’s a wonder I did any work at all!” 

Clint heard himself laugh and Phil laughed along with him, Clint decided he liked the sound of the other man laughing; it was warm and deep and made him think about how tall and broad-shouldered Phil was. 

“So about this date,” Phil pressed and Clint noticed the older man was referring to them getting ‘drinks’ was now a ‘date’, not that he was complaining, but it made him more nervous. “When are you free?” 

Mentally Clint flicked through his diary, “How about this Saturday night?” he asked looking over at Phil hopefully. 

“Saturday night sounds perfect,” Phil replied sounding pleased. “What do you think about dinner? If we’re getting together for drinks we might as well eat, right?” 

“Right,” Clint agreed and Phil flashed him a quick, toothy smile. “Dinner would be nice.” 

“Have you ever been to The Morning Lark?” Phil asked and Clint shook his head. “It’s a delightful place, rather memorable, perfect for a first date.” Phil enthused. With a quick glance at his watch Phil suddenly looked hassled before groaning over at Clint. “I’ll pick you up; say six outside your building?” 

“I’ll be there.” Clint promised with a nod.

Phil got to his feet and looked at him, “My lunch break is almost over.” Phil said and leaned down and kissed Clint gently on the cheek, a sweet goodbye.

As he watched Phil walk away, out the park and onto the street his charcoal smudged fingers drifted up to the place that Phil has just kissed him.

****

“Дорогая, what is this about you meeting someone yesterday?” Tasha asked as their cutlery clicked against their plates at dinner that night.

Clint sighed to himself and cursed Bucky and Steve to hell for telling her before he could tell her himself before smiling at her sweetly. “It’s nothing, we bumped into each other yesterday and Phil is taking me out on a date tomorrow night.” 

“Where’s he taking you?” she asked, delicately sipping on her tumbler of iced water, if Clint didn’t know her better he could almost say that she was interested in his date with Phil.

“Uh, a place called The Morning Lark?” Clint narrowed his eyes at her and Tasha stuck her tongue out playfully at him. “I’ve never been there before have you?” 

Tasha nodded, her red curls bouncing excitedly. “It’s a beautiful restaurant, gorgeous lighting with a small dance floor and everything! It’s very classy; we’ll have to buy you a shirt or something?”

“What do you mean dance floor? Classy? ‘We’ll have you buy you something’?” Clint said, dropping his fork in his pasta bowl as he began to hyperventilate.

“ягненок, relax,” Tasha placed her hand on top of his and squeezed gently. “It’ll be fine.”

****

Of course Tasha was going to take him to her personal tailor.

In all the years they had been living together Clint had watched in amazement at the evening gowns, ball dresses and day dresses and had traipsed their way in and out if the apartment, each one painstakingly crafted and hand-stitched to perfection. 

Clint shoved his hands in his pockets and looked around the small shop whilst the tailor and Tasha chatted in Russian. To his left was a table piled high with samples, and one of them...he couldn’t help but reach out a hand to touch. It wasn’t shiny, it just had a bit of sheen to it so that Clint thought it looked really classy, and it was also beautifully soft and silky to the touch.

“That would look gorgeous,” Tasha said coming up behind him, looking over shoulder at the deep purple silk. 

The tailor who had excellent ears and knew Tasha well had come up to them and as Tasha spoke draped the bolt of purple silk and draped it over his shoulder.   
“Yes, most elegant don’t you think?” 

Clint opened his mouth to reply but closed it when he realised that the questioned was directed at Tasha, not him. He rolled his eyes but let the tailor take his measurements and left with promises that the shirt would be ready for tomorrow. 

The comments on the last chapter were amazing? Think you can leave me some again? x


	3. Part 1.3 - First Date

The shirt was ready the next day, it was gorgeous and when Clint and Tasha walked into the room, they tailor passed him the shirt and made him try it on behind the curtain. The fabric felt lovely against his skin, light and airy, and soft. Looking at himself in the mirror Clint wondered to himself whether it was a bit too much but then in the mirror he caught the looks of the women that were working on the sewing machines and flushed as one of them winked at him. 

"Its perfect thank you," Clint smiled at the tailor and handed over his credit card, letting the tailor swipe it through the machine. "Keep my measurements in the book, I'll be back." 

**** 

By 5:30 Clint's nerves were threatening to overwhelm him but he was ready to go. Freshly showered, he had used his new cologne and Tasha had attacked his mop of hair with wax, styling it this way and that until they were both happy with the result; a familiar, adolescent style, messy but perfect for his dirty blonde hair. 

Tasha forced him into the silk shirt and dress shoes, pairing them with some skinny black jeans that clung to his legs, emphasising his thigh muscles. Bucky even pitched in by bringing him up a battered looking leather jacket. 

"Here have it, it's not like it fits any more, damn arm!" Bucky joked but Clint could hear the pain behind the words and with bated breath he took the leather jacket. The leather was buttery to the touch, battered and old. The good kind of old, the old that holds memories; memories of bar fights at one in the morning, of kisses in alleyways and of placing over a loved one’s shoulders. 

"I'll look after it, promise." Clint shrugged the jacket on and glanced up at Bucky as he scoffed. What Bucky didn’t realise was that some of the heaviness that had filled his eyes after giving his beloved jacket away had lifted and the light shone through. 

"You look great," Tasha wiped her waxy fingers on a towel. "Gorgeous even." 

"You really do," Bucky agreed, reaching over and smoothing down the collar of the silk shirt, his metal fingers smooth and cool against Clint's neck. "Never better." 

"What happens if I don't know what to talk to him about?" Clint asked his nervousness escalating by the second. "What happens if I don’t know what to do in the fancy restaurant? Fuck." 

"You'll be fine," Tasha soothed him, her nimble fingers digging into the knots in his back and neck. "You do know which one is the salad fork, right?" 

"No!" Clint looked up at his best friend in horror. "I didn’t even realise there was a different fork for salad!" He buried his face into his hands and shuddered, wondering whether there was still enough time to cancel the date. 

"No." Tasha leaned down onto her haunches and forced his head up so that she could meet his gaze. "Don’t do this to yourself Clint. Breathe, he wants this, you want this." She said forcefully and she was right, Tasha was always right and he knew it. 

"Okay." Clint tried a small smile and Tasha grinned back at him before hopping back up to her feet. Taking her outstretched hand Clint allowed himself to be tugged close to her smaller body and slumped into the embrace, burying his face into the neck of his best friend and breathing in her familiar scent, letting it ground him. 

On the side Clint's phone buzzed and wrangling himself out of Tasha's iron-like grip he leaned over and picked it up and answered the phone, blushing when he heard Phil's voice, it deeper and sexier then he remembered. 

"Hey Clint," Phil said, Clint blushing involuntarily at the way his name rolled off the older man’s tongue. "I'm downstairs, will you buzz me in?" 

"I can just meet you downstairs," Clint smiled down the phone and grabbed his keys stuffing them in the back of his jeans. "Just give me a second to walk down." Phil chuckled once and stayed on the line as Clint pressed a smacking kiss to Tasha's forehead and avoided Bucky's flick on the forehead. 

"Wow." Phil breathed as Clint jogged down the stairs to greet him in the foyer and Clint blushed at the attention before coming to a shuffling stop in-front of the other man. Phil looked great too, either he looked better out of the rain or he'd forgotten just how good-looking Phil really was, Clint felt his stomach lurch dangerously. 

"Hey," Clint greeted him and then dithered for a few moments, pausing as he realised that he didn’t know what to do. His head started to hurt and his breathing became short and erratic but then Phil placed a warm, large hand on his bicep and squeezed it gently. 

"Hey to you too," Phil leaned forward slowly, and brushed his soft lips against Clint's cheek. 

Clint blushed, the older man’s slight stubble grazing his chin as Phil drew away, pausing to look into each other’s eyes for a moment before Phil grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers gently. "Is this okay?" Phil asked softly and Clint nodded quickly. It was more than okay; he'd forgotten the comforting weight of someone's hand wrapped up in his own and how that causal contact led to those delicious shivers. 

**** 

The two of them walked briskly through the cool autumn evening, their linked hands occasionally swinging between them as they nattered casually and it was until they rounded the corner that Clint was sure that Phil Coulson as a pretty predictable man. 

A cherry-red corvette was parked against the sidewalk and Clint's eyes slid over it until Phil walked up to it and lovingly stroked the bonnet. "Clint, I'd like you to meet Lola, my pride and joy." 

"What?!" Clint spluttered out, still confused at the thought that Phil, Phil his 'office-worker' friend had a car like this. "You own this?" 

"Not this, her. Her names Lola, and yes I do," Phil replied a little affronted and Clint turned to look at him and placed his hand over his mouth with wide eyes. 

"I'm so sorry, Phil I mean," He gestured at Phil and then at the car before shaking his head in wonderment. He placed his hand on Phil's forearm, "She really is beautiful." He whispered and Phil nodded with a smile. 

"So are you." 

**** 

The restaurant was warm, and the lighting was low and golden making the place look mysterious and inviting. They were led over the dance-floor to a secluded corner. Clint shrugged off his leather jacket and placed it on the back of the chair, smiling to himself as he heard Phil's sharp intake of breath at the silk shirt. Settling himself down in the seat, Clint glanced around revelling in the atmosphere before quickly glancing at the menu. 

"Do you drink wine?" Phil asked looking up from the wine menu and Clint shrugged and put his own menu down. 

"The last time I drank wine was in celebration of passing my spring semester, and it tasted like paint-stripper, and I've tasted paint-stripper." Clint deadpans and Phil laughs softly before gesturing the waiter over and ordering a French wine. 

"Don’t worry," Phil smiles when he sees Clint's worried look. "It doesn’t taste like paint-stripper, trust me." And Clint did, and found that trusting Phil was as easy as breathing. 

The wine was red and dark and Clint looked at it dubiously as Phil clinked their glasses together. 

"Go on, take a sip." Phil encouraged and steeling himself for the sharp, sour taste Clint took a small sip.

It was delicious, room temperature and warming it tasted like fruit and berries each of them bursting on the tip of his tongue. 

"It's good," Clint smiled and Phil and shivered as Phil smiled back at him playfully. 

"What did I tell you?" 

The food; the food was expensive but looked delicious and he practically moaned aloud when the silky steak slipped down his throat, the taste full but soft and subtle at the same time. But it was when they were ordering desserts the two of them properly bonded. 

Leaning over the table Phil licked the tip of his thumb, leaning over and wiping at Clint's temple. "There was paint there," Phil explained softly as Clint blushed, he was sure that he'd got rid of it all when he showered. 

The conversation slowly turned to families and Phil seemed to close up at bit before explaining. "I have, well had a little sister called Amelie who died.” Phil paused and wiped at the corners of his eyes, making Clint’s heart wrench as he slid his hand over the table to where Phil’s lay.

Slipping his fingers in the spaces between Phil’s Clint rubbed his fingers there, comforting the older man. “I lost someone too,” Clint tried to smile but couldn’t. “I had an older brother, Barney who died when I was sixteen; he was the only family that I had before Tasha.”

Phil flipped over his hand so that they were palm to palm and squeezed Clint’s hand gently, rubbing his thumb on the exposed skin, “I think we’re kindred spirits Clint.”

Clint laughed before nodding.

****

“Here we are,” Clint stopped outside his apartment door and turned to look at Phil, the older man looked straight back at him. Feeling awkward Clint gestured to the door and raised his eyebrow “Do you want to come in?” he asked and was pleasantly surprised when Phil shook his head with a little smile.

“Not really,” Phil said and took Clint’s hand in his. “I want that to mean something when we get to it.”

That was something that Clint wasn’t used too, the idea that sex could actually mean something rather than just a quick one-night stand. This was something new, everything was new and Clint was pleasantly surprised to feel that he liked it, he liked the feel of not knowing what was going to happen, he liked the feeling of Phil’s hand wrapped up in his, but he mostly liked the idea that this was all with Phil.

“So, goodnight,” Clint smiled at Phil and blushed as Phil smiled back.

Losing the grip on Phil’s hand, Clint turned around and opened the door to his apartment and was surprised as Phil caught his arm and tugged him back out into the corridor.

The vice of Phil’s arms was warm and comforting and as he was man-handled around them he shivered in delight as Phil’s breath washed against his neck. “I usually wait until the second date to kiss someone, but you, you darling are one on a kind.”

Phil’s lips were hard and wet on his, softly chapped they moved in sync as they kissed slowly, Clint eyes drifting shut as he felt Phil’s hand wrap into the nape of hair and just brush through it. The intense kissing finally turned soft and with a small sigh Phil leaned away and opened his bright blue eyes, hazy but bright.

“Goodnight.” Phil laughed and pecked Clint on the cheek once before walking back along the corridor, leaving Clint there frozen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou to everyone that have left comments and kudos! love you all!!


	4. Part 1.4 - Mooning over You

****

Clint staggered in his apartment, automatically shutting the door behind him and sinking to his knees and smiled to himself, remembering that just the other day he was sat in this exact same position but instead was crying over a man who had broken his heart. The cuts were still fresh in his palms, but Clint could remember the soft brush of Phil's lips over them as he gazed at him wordlessly and he clenched his fists shut, bringing them down into his lap.

"What's got you so happy?" Tasha wandered into the living room, her hair damp from the shower and smiling when she saw him leaning against the door.

Clint grinned toothily and scrambled to his feet, taking her hands in his and spun her around the living space, laughing excitedly to himself as he dragged her close and hugged her tightly. "Nothing," he shrugged and winked at her as Tasha smacked him on the arm. "I'm just happy that something might be working out I guess." He mused and Tasha huffed next to him before sweetly stroking his cheek.

"I'm happy too," She replied shortly and allowed her hand to linger on his cheek, caressing his jawbone before pulling back and allowed all emotion to remove itself from her eyes. "Goodnight."

Curiously Clint watched her leave the room, shaken by the dead look that she'd given him for the last few moments, but then thought back to the warmth and love that Phil had looked upon him with and wandered, smiling into his room where he collapsed on his bed and dreaming of love and suits and warm smiles, not once mulling over Tasha.

****

"I mean it almost feels like a fairytale, who would have ever thought that such a handsome, interesting man would be so lovely? And lets be honest here, who would have ever thought that he'd have been interested in me?" Clint quizzed Steve as they wandered over the campus, his eyes and voice alive with excitement and Steve quirked his lips to the side, happy to see his friend in such a state over another person.

"I told you." Steve reminded him over and over again over lunch. "I told you this could be something. Heck, we all told you this could be something. Even Tasha!"

Steve gloated and Clint screwed his nose up at his best friend, throwing the plastic wrapper from his apple at the smaller blonde before going back to happily eating his bagel. Even Steve's smugness couldn’t put a damper on his good mood and he spent most of his meal chewing slowly through his pastrami bagel, staring off into the distance as he thought about Phil. Reaching onto the table, Clint felt around before wrapping his fingers around his coffee and took a sip, spitting it back out in his cup almost immediately hating the cold coffee taste that overtook his taste buds, but instantly sank back into his daydream about Phil.

"HEY!" Clint finally looked up to see Bucky leaning over the back of Steve's hair, his human hand carding through Steve's floppy hair. "Jheeze, I'm starting to get worried about you Barton."

"What? Why?" Clint started defensively, pulling himself away from his recollection of the way that Phil had walked him all the way upstairs before gathering him up in those big, strong arms and kissing his breath away. Phil was a true romantic, such a gentleman, taking Clint's hand, paying for dinner and calling him gorgeous, and beautiful and darling. Not to mention when Phil had swept him close, Clint could smell the delicious aroma of Phil's cologne, a spicy, musky smell that just clung to him perfectly. 

"Oh my god, you're doing it again!" Bucky threw his hands up in the air in exclamation, ignoring Steve as he chastised his boyfriend for using the Lords name in vain. "You're officially mooning now Clint Barton, I never thought I'd see a time when a guy came first to your friends, or your coffee for that matter!"

"Uh, sorry." Clint tried, unsure whether Bucky was shitting with him, or whether he was genuinely annoyed at the way that Clint was acting. "I just cant help it, it went so well!" Clint tried to justify his action but Bucky just huffed dramatically and waved a hand at Clint.

"Talk to the hand because the face isn’t listening!"

 _'Ah, Bucky the drama queen, long time no see'_ Clint thought sarcastically, ignoring Steve as he dissolved into giggles at his boyfriends antics.

"What are you, twelve?" Clint retorted and Bucky faked a gap, hand landing on his heart as he raised a shaking hand in Clint's direction as he sat down.

"Respect your elders mister, you younger generation are a bunch of scallywags."

"Old man."

"Baby." Bucky stuck his tongue out at Clint and jumped in his seat as Steve pinched his arm. "Ow, what was that for?!" He exclaimed and Steve just shrugged, giving him a look that Clint couldn’t read and Bucky nodded, a little bashfully.

"Isn't that cute," Clint smirked at Bucky playfully. "Keeping you on a leash isn’t he?" Clint waggled his eyebrows at Bucky but Bucky just smiled at him and placed his feet in the vacant fourth chair.

"Don’t mind really," Bucky smirked back at him and waggled his eyebrows. "If I do behave, I get a piece of real hot ass tonight." Steve flushed red and buried his face in his arms but didn’t deny a thing as Clint leapt out his seat, making a retching sound and shaking his head, wordlessly freaking out over Bucky's audacity.

Clint sat back down and avoided Bucky's grinning gaze and instead returned the small smile that Steve sent his way (Both apologetic and proud). "Have you and Phil spoken today at all?" Steve asked curiously and Clint arranged his face into a more detached expression.

"No, he probably wont even call." He sat up straighter, taller. "Regardless it was a fun date, it doesn’t have to be any more than that."

_But he so, so wanted it to be, honestly because Phil is the type of guy that only comes along once in a lifetime and even than you might not meet him. You might be held up one day and miss him crossing the road in front of you, you might buy the wrong coffee at the wrong place, you could have stepped out on that road a few seconds later and died right in front of him._

"Don’t say that!" Steve looked scandalised. "You have to hope that it will all work out!"

Clint shrugged, determined to be in control of the situation, and of the feelings that were threatening to bubble over in his chest. "If he calls, great. If not, I'll live."

Clint caught Bucky rolling his eyes but the other man looked down at his lap, furiously texting on his phone and Clint looked away, furiously blinking away stupid tears and telling himself that he meant what he'd said. 

Minutes later, Clint's phone beeped and the bubble of emotions in his chest doubled in size. It was a text from Phil, and with a grin and shaking fingers Clint opened it and tried to keep his face from splitting in two.

_Had a great time last night. I'm thinking about you._

"What's that?" Bucky asked and Clint looked up to see him and Steve staring curiously at him, apparently even Bucky had seen through his attempt to stop himself from smiling.

"That he enjoyed last night and that he's thinking about me." Clit said, finally breaking out his true grin, feeling it stretch as wide as the Cheshire cats.

"Oh god." Bucky muttered, huffing under his breath before returning to type furiously on his phone to someone that Clint was pretty sure was Tasha.

Rolling my eyes at him, Clint returned his attention back to his phone, pondering on how to text Phil back. Turning to Steve Clint pursed his lips, "Would it be viewed a desperate if I told him that I was thinking about him too?"

"Why don’t you tell him that you dreamt about him _all_ night as well?" Bucky drawled and Clint gave him the finger before thinking a moment and quickly tapping out a reply and hitting send before he hand any second thoughts.

_I had a wonderful time also, I can't seem to stop thinking the date nor you._

It was polite, nice even with just a hint of flirtation something that Clint had noticed Phil had been into the night before. So hopefully, this was just what the situation needed.

A moment later, his phone rang. Clint looked down, startled and almost spat out his last mouthful of bagel. Quickly swallowing down the bagel, he started to cough and gesture at his phone. "It's Phil!" He spluttered, his eyes streaming as he swallowed down the last crumbs of his bagel.

"Ooohhh," Steve squealed and Bucky stood up suddenly.

"I can't take this anymore, Tasha and I are going to have some bro time watching the game. Hope you have fun ladies."

Steve kissed Bucky's lips and then turned back to Clint. "Answer it!"

Clint accepted the call in the last few rings and held it up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Clint?"

Phil's deep voice sent a little fission straight to Clint's groin, how could anyone sound so sexy?

"Hey," Clint said and turned away from Steve and looked out to where he could see his next lecture building in the distance. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Phil replied and Clint could almost hear him smiling over the line. "Your text made me happy."

"Good," Clint smiled at the final comment. "I'm feeling pretty happy myself too."

Phil chuckled down the line, the sound feeling intimate down the line and with a start Clint realised something potentially catastrophic, something really, really bad.

_He was falling fast for this guy._

The realization of this should scare Clint, that maybe it was time for him to start putting up his walls but he couldn’t make himself do it. Particularly not after Phil's next words.

"I hope this isn’t too pushy of me," Phil said. "But I would love to see you again. Soon, what are you doing this evening?"

"Nothing." Clint replied automatically.

"How about I take you somewhere tonight?" Phil asked and Clint started to nod but then realised that Phil couldn’t see him on the other end.

"That would be great." Clint laughed.

"Wonderful." He said, and Clint could just tell that Phil knew what he'd just done. "How about something you?"

"Uh, yes. What's that meant to mean?" Clint replied, slightly confused.

"You adore art, I have two tickets to The Guggenheim." Phil simply replied and Clint smiled widely.

"Wow, I've never been there."

"You'll love it." Phil reassured him. "I'll get a taxi to yours at seven?"

"Uh, can we make it half-past seven?" Clint asked, embarrassed and chewed a little at his thumb nail.

"Sure, that’s fine! I'm really looking forward to this Clint."

"Me too." Clint said, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he turned to face Steve again and gave him an excited thumbs up.

After Phil had hung up Clint turned back to Steve and smiled at him and Steve groaned. But Clint couldn’t care less whether he was mooning or not, he was going on a date with a gorgeous man tonight. Not even the alarm on his phone telling him that he had an art history lecture in block 13 could dampen his happy mood. 


End file.
